A Touch of Turnabout
by Squints1318
Summary: My first fic ever, centering around my two OC's, with appearances from several canon characters. I intend to make a series out of this, so please read and review!


**A Touch of Turnabout**

**Prologue**

**9:50 AM**

**District Court**

The halls of the District Court were long and expansive, and only seemed to get longer as she walked it's halls, taking in its imposing marble columns and tense atmosphere. And tense it was. Court bailiffs stood at every corner, running the routine security checks that everyone entering the courthouse had to go through. A small line had already formed, but that was moving swiftly along. Not that she had to wait in said line. She wasn't here just for a visit. No, she had a special entrance she had to go through.

"You're the defense attorney?" The court bailiff asked, his arms, clearly uninterested with whatever was going on. He looked down at the young woman in front of him, his expression unchanged.

She pointed to the small, gold-plated badge that sat on the lapel of her dark blazer.

"I'll have to check it." He held out his hand, and she handed it to him. He flipped it over, and studied the number on the back, before turning and entering it into the small computer on the side. He motioned her through the metal detector, which she stepped through, instantly greeted by a succession of beeps.

"S-Sorry." She said, smiling bashfully. She reached up, and took off the small, thin leather choker from around her neck, and the metal piece that hung from it. The other guard looked unfazed as he took the jewel, while she stepped through again, beepless.

"Ms. Trent?" The first bailiff said finally, looking up from the computer. "Everything checks out. Good luck in there." He handed her back her Attorney's badge, while the other guard handed her her choker back.

Artemis Trent simply nodded to the two bailiffs before re-fastening her choice of neckwear and proceeding through the corridor. She was a fresh attorney, the newest employee at the Grossberg Law Offices. She wore her dark hair long, with a black blazer with the first two buttons left open, with a white shirt underneath. She clutched her case file in her free hand, while a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. There was no use trying to hide it, she told herself. She was nervous. Her first case. Ever. She had every reason to feel such way.

She walked along the halls of the courthouse with a quickened pace. The trial would start in less than ten minutes, and she couldn't afford to be late. Not to her first trial. That would make a devastating impression on…well, everyone. Dozens of nervous thoughts zipped through her head every second, too many to recount accurately. Suddenly, she stopped in front of a pair of large double doors, where a small black sign read 'Defendant Lobby no. 7' in bold, white letters. Her lobby. She smoothed her hair, and took a deep breath. This was it. She reached for the door, and turned the knob…

"What took you so long?" Robert Hammond grinned slyly. Finally, this thing can get underway.

* * *

**9:50 AM**

**District Court**

**Prosecutor's Lobby no. 5**

The prosecutor's lobby was quiet that morning, with no people present but the two guards on duty who, like good court bailiffs, were still as statues. Well, that wasn't everyone. There was also the other man standing in the corner, glancing around the room like a child who had just stepped into…well…a Prosecutor's Lobby. Unlike the defendant's lobby, the prosecution seemed to have things much better. The room was carpeted in red velvet, with two sofas sitting on opposite sides of the room. A small statue stood in the corner, a replica of an ancient Greek masterpiece, quite a refreshing change from the obligatory painting in the Defendant's Lobby.

Marcus Brandt suddenly felt very good about his choice of profession. He took a moment, and looked down at the large badge he had pinned to his chest. Unlike its counterpart, the Prosecutor's badge was large and heavy, with pointed edges that looked like it could really hurt someone. Well, that was how the law worked. Solid, with harsh penalties to those who break it. Suddenly, he felt anxious all over again.

He took it off his lapel, and gazed at it for a second. Shaking his head, he placed it securely in his pocket. While he didn't show it, he didn't feel like he was ready for this.

"Too heavy to wear?" A cool, female voice rang through the room. Marcus quickly looked up at the woman who had just entered the lobby. Her long, brown hair matched her brown dress uniform, which was covered in medals and ribbons of all sorts, and a red muffler covered her slender neck. One thing said about prosecutors, they weren't bashful about their achievements. "That's alright; most of us don't wear that thing anyway."

"Ch-chief!" Marcus stammered, taking a step backwards. It wasn't every day you were paid a visit by the Chief Prosecutor herself.

Lana Skye's eyes looked up at the taller man, her expression indifferent. "I like to come down and see the new guys make their court debut. In my experience, it helps when there's someone more experienced standing next to you."

(Not when that person can fire you at a whim…) Brandt thought to himself. After all, she was his boss.

"B-but chief." Marcus said, collecting his thoughts. "This isn't my first time in court."

"Oh?" Lana raised an eyebrow in a possible expression of surprise, before returning back to her cold self. "But whatever the case, you're still too green."

Brandt looked down at the Chief Prosecutor. At the age of twenty-five, he had been with the prosecutor's office for all of one month. His white suit and black tie combo was (or so he thought) a refreshing change to the current court attire, and his small, rectangular glasses cast a glare over his eyes. It was kind of strange. Lana was only a few years older than him, and she was already the Chief Prosecutor for the entire district! She wasn't bad-looking, either.

He scratched the back if his neck. He'd heard stories about her, in the short time he'd joined. Up until two years ago, she'd been a detective. And not just any detective, but one of the best damn detectives in the district. She and her partner, now the Chief of Police, investigated the most incredible of crimes, and always getting the right guy (or girl, in some cases.)

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sudden voice of the court bailiff. "Prosecutor Brandt! The trial will be commencing shortly!"

Lana took a breath. "That's our cue, Brandt." She nodded.

"Shall we?"


End file.
